


Could be the last time you see me alive

by xtenn



Series: The Viscount Who Sure As Hell Didn't Deserve Kate [12]
Category: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Genre: Accidents, Angst, Blood and Injury, Canon Rewrite, F/M, Hurt, Injury, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Mother-Son Relationship, Pain, Regret, Suffering, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:06:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29670462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xtenn/pseuds/xtenn
Summary: “What the devil is that?”Anthony followed Lady Danbury’s horrified gaze until his eyes fell on an open-topped carriage careening out of control as it rounded a corner on two wheels. It was still too far to see the faces of the occupants, but then he heard a shriek, and then the terrified bark of a dog.Anthony’s blood froze in his veins. Kate was in that carriage.With nary a word to Lady Danbury, he kicked his horse into motion and galloped full speed ahead. He wasn’t sure what he’d do once he reached the carriage. Maybe he’d grab the reins from the hapless driver. Maybe he’d be able to pull someone to safety. But he knew that he could not sit still and watch while the vehicle crashed before his eyes.And yet that was exactly what happened.Anthony was halfway to the drunken carriage when it veered off the path and ran up over a large rock, upsetting the balance and sending it tumbling onto its side. And Anthony could only watch in horror ...So, that still happened, even in this AU (which was a single piece and should really be chapters, rather than a series) where Anthony and Kate are not married.
Relationships: Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sharma, Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sheffield, Mr. Bagwell/Edwina Sheffield
Series: The Viscount Who Sure As Hell Didn't Deserve Kate [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2129715
Comments: 40
Kudos: 152





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If descriptions of pain and blood are not your thing, maybe pass on this one.
> 
> See further notes for thought process, if you're interested. And thanks again for the comments and kudos!

"Anthony," she says, a whimper.

Pain, still so much pain. Her leg, it hurts, it hurts so much. She's confused - her forehead wrinkles in her effort to think. A cold perspiration on her body. She shakes. A bitter taste in her mouth - medicine? When did she take medicine? Vague memories of a cup held to her lips, voices enticing her to drink. _For the pain_ , the voices said - but the pain was still there, unrelenting.

Her mouth fills with saliva - she wants to be sick. _Oh God._

Where is she - her bed? They were in the carriage. The park. Newton was barking. Then Anthony was there, her Anthony - he had pulled her out. Had held her to his chest in the carriage. He had carried her upstairs. Never letting go. Like a bride, Kate thinks. I was like a bride. What had he said? _It was never supposed to be you. It isn't your time._ Why can't she think?

 _Oh God have mercy_ , _make the pain stop. I am going to be sick. Let me up._

"Ssshhh darling, ssshhh," Anthony crones back. "Trust me, Kate. Stay with me, Kate."

He presses his lips against her damp forehead, against her pale cheeks, his eyes red and rimmed with dark circles, his hair messy, falling across his face. Sweat on his top lip. One hand at her temple, stroking, smoothing the dark curls back from her face. His other forearm across her torso, pushing down against her collarbone. There's blood there, on his arm. _Why is there blood?_ He's holding her to the bed, a brutal mockery of her secret desires for the wedding night that could have been.

The pain. So much.

Her breath catches. Tears on her cheeks.

_God, get me a bowl, I'm going to be sick. I need to get up. Let me up._

Voice in the background - a man - men? - she doesn't know. Edwina?

Anthony bites his lip, locks his eyes with hers. "Hold still, Kate, my love," he orders. The gentle fingers in her hair increase in pressure, holding her head down, intense pressure of his weight across her chest as she tries to rise. _They are stronger than us, taller and heavier_ , Mary had said.

_Let me up, let me up, let me up._

On my count of three, a man's voice says. 

One. Pressure on her thigh - unknown hands firm against her soft flesh, above her knee. More hands, cold against the heat of her ankle. Too firm. _It hurts, it hurts, it hurts._ _Let me up, let me up, let me up, Anthony, please!_

Two. A fire in Anthony's eyes. She's trapped by him, forced down again, his entire weight on her chest. _Stronger than you. Taller and heavier._ Shhh Kate, hold still Kate, hold still my love.

Three. Her leg explodes - a scream is ripped from her body as his forehead presses against hers, his eyes never leaving her face, pining her down.

 _This is agony._


	2. Chapter 2

Edwina wrings the cloth out in the bowl of water, turning it from clear to dark red, her hands steady.

The maid hovers anxiously nearby with another bowl, steam rising. Another comes in with more linens, and more anxiety. Outside in the hall, she can hear voices - the butler ordering the staff to clean the floors, Lord Bridgerton barking at doctors, his shoes clicking impatiently on the tile, the doctors snapping back. _There is nothing more to do, my Lord, but let the young lady sleep. Yes we are certain - my colleague is quite correct. I did not know you were a member of our college, my lord. Please, sir!_

"The doctor was right - you will need to have this stitched," she comments to Matthew, as she wipes his face again. Pushing back against that fop of blond hair she so admired to see the cut, slicing the skin open across his forehead and around his crown, swelling, already multi-coloured. The blood has run the length of his face, and soaked his white shirt. It continues to throb out, gentle waves of thick red. 

He won't meet her eyes.

"Miss Sheffield," he begins. "I ... uh ... I do not know how to apologise, your sister, I ..."

"Sit still," Edwina tuts back, dabbing at the blood.. "And as for Kate, her leg has been set ..."

"Yes, I heard that," Matthew bitterly remarks. Half of London must have heard that scream. He is shamed to feel relieved that he was not required in her chambers, to hold her down while the doctors worked to set the bone. All of that pain, and for what? A carriage ride on a sunny day, to impress a woman? "God, Edwina, I ... I do not know what to say, I cannot ... "

"Hush, Matthew," Edwina continues. Gentle strokes with the cloth, more blood in the bowl. "She is sleeping now - the laudanum has taken effect. From the sound of it, Lord Bridgerton has every doctor in the city in our front hall, so I have complete confidence in Kate's full recovery."

Here her lips twitched slightly, as if to share a joke - but Matthew couldn't place it. What in Heaven could be humorous about today? One of them could have been killed! He closed his eyes against the gentle touch of the cloth against his aching skull, breathing through the memory of the carriage lifting - that sense of weightlessness as he grabbed and held Edwina - his arms around her head, cradling her to his chest, before the blow on the ground to his temple. The moment of disorientation, when blood poured into his eyes and his ears rang and the world tipped from left to right, right to left. _Are you hurt, Ed, are you hurt, talk to me, Ed talk to me._ Her single nod in return, her lips in a tight line as she left his arms and rushed back to the carriage to deal with the horses. The unnatural sight of Kate's leg when Lord Bridgerton pulled her from the carriage - her unnatural pallor in the Viscount's arms - the unnatural slump of Bridgerton's usually proud shoulders, like those of a broken man, as he exited Kate's room when she was finally asleep and there was no more for him to do. Matthew wonders briefly why he was ever jealous, seeing now so clearly where that man's affections lie.

All told, these images are enough to make him feel physically ill with guilt. What had he said - _choose adventure?_ What was he thinking? How could he possibly have even considered to take such a gamble with Edwina's future? What in Heaven could he offer Edwina, in terms of security or comfort?

"No, Ed, God ... " Matthew tried to find the right words. "It was reckless, and unforgivable, and I cannot ... "

Edwina pulled back slightly, pursing her lips as she put down the cloth. "Hush, Matthew, it was an accident" she replied, more sternly this time and meeting his eyes fiercely. Her perfect day had unwound into this mess, and she wouldn't let it get any worse if she could help it.

At last, the wound was as clean as it was going to get. Edwina's hand nervously reached for the needle and catgut the doctor had left behind. 

"Are you sure?" she asked, nervously.

"You heard the doctor," Matthew gruffly replied. "And I would far rather it was you than some ham fisted middle aged man." _If today is the last time I see you,_ he thought wistfully, _I'll have this memento from you forever_. 

Edwina laughed, almost manic. "You put a lot of faith in my embroidery skills, sir - please know that I have never done this ..."

"No?" Matthew tried to smile back, finally meeting her eyes. "The way you handled today made me believe you were quite used to carriage accidents."

"I have read all about them in books," she smirked in reply, wholly untruthfully - no passage in a novel could have prepared her for the sickening crunch of the carriage flipping, the scream of the horses or the stickiness and sheer quantity of the blood that poured from Matthew's head. From Edwina's perspective, Lord Bridgerton had handled the biggest task - pulling through the carriage to find Kate, and she shuddered at the memory. In contrast, it had been relatively simple to issue orders to the shocked crowd: for a hack to be called, immediately, for their delivery home and for messages to the College of Physicians and to her mother to be sent. _What would be the point,_ Edwina thought with annoyance, _of being so ardently and continuously discussed by society at large, if you could not use such undeserved popularity to gain assistance in your moment of crisis?_

There's a pause, as they both consider the needle in her hands.

A new ooze of red begins to trickle past his temple. Matthew's foot is tapping up and down.

"This is going to hurt like blazes, isn't it," Matthew curses, regretting turning away the laudanum offered to him earlier. _I deserve pain for being such a fool with her life._

Edwina shifts closer, and takes a deep breath. Simple stitches, just like sewing. It just happens to be her suitor's face. How hard can it be? "Just sit still, Matthew ..." 


	3. Chapter 3

The footman, hot and flustered from his dash through the city, finally found them at the tea shop. _Accident in the park earlier this morning. The Miss Sheffields. Needed at home, immediately._

Mary froze in shock - uncomprehending - _her girls, her girls, her girls_ \- her lips white, a roar in her ears. 

Violet took the tea cup from her friend's hand, settling it back on its saucer. Taking her by the elbow, she helped Mary to stand.

"Then we will return home immediately," Lady Bridgerton ordered imperiously. "Come, Mary - we will get you a carriage."

\---

Anthony was pacing in the hallway when Mary and Violet arrived home - deep in conversation with not one, not two, but three surgeons. His jacket was off, hair ruffled, his shirt stained with blood from the cut on his hand that he had not yet had dressed. 

"Anthony!" Violet exclaimed. "You're hurt! What are you doing here ...?"

The Viscount fixed Mary and his mother with a hard stare, trying to find the words. "I'm here," he eventually managed, "I'm here, because I need to ask ...."

Mary couldn't focus - all of these unknown men, the incessant noise of male voices and their opinions, and Lord Bridgeton in particular, in her hallway - and cut him off before he could finish. "Where ... where are my girls?"

"In here, Mother," Edwina called loudly. Mary pushed past the men and through to the parlour, to see Edwina - her hands covered in blood, her face screwed up in concentration, needle in hand as she put stitches into a large young man's face. 

"Dear GOD, Edwina," Mary cursed, her hand on her fluttering heart, as she collapsed against the divan.

"I'm Mr Bagwell," Matthew whispered through the pain. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs Sheffield."

"Just sit still, Matthew," Edwina hissed, her fingers pinching the swollen skin together. 

"...Kate?" Mary managed to squeak out. 

"Upstairs, asleep," Edwina replied, matter of factly, trying to grasp the slippery needle. "She broke her leg but the bone has been set, Mother, and she will be - _honestly, just hold still Matthew_ \- she will be fine, it seems."

Mary tried to rouse herself from her stupor, fanning her face frantically - _Kate, my darling girl_ \- but at her inaction, Edwina turned from her work on Matthew's face and fixed her mother with a rather unreasonably cold stare. _Pull yourself together, Mother,_ she silently ordered. 

"She's asleep, Mother, and she will be fine," Edwina repeated, a little crossly, before adding mercilessly, "Lord Bridgerton pulled her from the carriage himself - he has managed all of the doctors and her care. We owe him more thanks than we will ever be able to repay."

Matthew can't help but feel a twinge of old jealousy at these words - a reminder of how unworthy he is of Edwina's affections and future, particularly given the events of today. As for Mary, she slowly nodded, taking some deep breaths and gratefully accepting a mouthful of wine from her maid. She was needed upstairs, with her Kate, sleeping or not. 

\---

It was Violet, of course, who cleared the house of the unnecessary additional doctors, who issued clear instructions to the staff for cleaning and meals, and for Kate's further care. Violet who acted as the long overdue chaperone for Edwina, who held Mr Bagwell's bandage in place for Edwina and who arranged for Mr Bagwell to be transported home, with reassuring promises of his imminent return on the morrow. It was Violet who offered her kind words and clasped Edwina's hands, blood and all, as finally a tiny tear from the immense stress of the day threatened to escape her eyes.

It was Violet who called a carriage to take both her and her eldest child to Anthony's bachelor's quarters, where Violet called for a hot bath to be poured and a light lunch to be prepared. Violet, who sent a runner to Bridgerton House, to request the immediate assistance of Benedict and Colin. And it was Violet, with the tacit approval of her son, who requested that flowers be sent to the Sheffield's townhome - three bunches, for each of the women. A short note expressing condolences and offering all of the assistance that the Bridgertons could offer in their time of need.

And it was Violet, who sat Anthony down at last - wiping his brow and cleaning the cut on his hand. Wrapping a bandage around it as she had done so many times in his boyhood.

"Rest, Anthony," she murmured. "A bath is waiting for you. Your brothers will be here soon, to be with you. You have done everything you can."

The Viscount fumbled in his pocket, and pulled out his father's watch - attached to which by a small piece of silk was the ring he had chosen. He turned it in his fingers softly, wondering morbidly if it would ever be worn. Anthony had left Kate's chambers as she slept - when the doctors had taken a moment from the excitement of setting the bone to discover that he was not, in fact, either her fiancé or her husband and therefore had no right to be there - much less holding her down to the bed, or kissing her forehead - and as much as the Viscount wanted to stay, he had been finally chased from her bedside by a very belated sense of propriety. 

"I have wasted so much time, Mother."

"The most worthy things in life are worth spending a little time waiting for - they do not just happen, the moment you wish them into being," Violet chuckled. _My privileged boy_ , she thought softly - _so much responsibility at a young age, but so much has come easy to you, without any need for patience or hard work_. "And you have time. You do - believe me. Rest now, and call on Kate as soon as she is able to receive visitors."

Anthony nodded, barely able to keep his eyes open. She was right, his Mother. Where would he be without her?

**Author's Note:**

> Look, if you are pulled from underneath a crashed carriage with a broken ankle, taken home in who-knows what vehicle (but it sure wasn't an ambulance!), given laudanum as your sole form of pain relief (maybe it works? but it is also a great emetic ... so, yeh, it makes you barf), and then the doctor "sets the bone" while you are still conscious (that has to hurt, right?) ... After all that? No matter how plucky of a heroine you are, you aren't really going to be in any shape to provide emotional comfort and support to someone else. 
> 
> Or, you know, listen to a proposal. 
> 
> Sorry!


End file.
